I Still
by Rosamanelle
Summary: He knew that this was love. Pure, sweet, and unadulterated. Something that would last a lifetime. It's too bad that they've never said hello. Or, In which Add is a crazy stalker and Eve is the innocent victim.


He had known right away that there was something special about her; it was just the look in her eyes as she smiled softly at him, almost immediately returning to her book. She was quiet, she was shy, but whenever she smiled it was like the morning sun breaking through drab clouds.

She was beautiful.

Always so soft, always glowing, always stunningly gorgeous no matter what she did.

And he had known from the moment their eyes had met that they shared a special connection. No one else could come between them; they had a special type of love that never had to be spoken aloud. It was exchanged through smiles, gentle glances, and quiet greetings.

It didn't matter that they had never spoken beyond 'hello.'

He knew that this was love, and he knew that she felt it too.

He always stood next to the top floor window, holding the curtains away as he peered into her room. Most of the time she read, but sometimes she danced or watched the television. He was always fascinated; such a beautiful girl – _his_ beautiful girl – led such an ordinary life.

At some point, his armchair was dragged next to the window. He wasn't sure when it got there, but he was definitely sure that it wouldn't be leaving anytime soon.

After all, he would always love her.

* * *

He started sending her letters.

Just short things, always letting her know that he was thinking about her. He asked how her day was, commented on the weather, complimented her on her new dance routine, asked her about the book she was reading… Whatever he could talk about, he would.

First he sent them once every month or so. Then every week. Then every day.

He knew she always read them; she always took her mail up to her room and opened it on her bed.

He still remembered the day she had opened his first letter like it happened yesterday, a warm feeling filling his chest as he recalled her surprised expression.

She had brought up her mail, as usual, and sat down on her bed. He had sat down on his chair, as usual, and pulled out his binoculars. The distance was a little too far for his liking. With the binoculars, it was like he was sitting across from her.

Every letter she opened gave her a different expression. She laughed at one – from a friend, he had checked earlier – and tossed another one aside with a disdained face – that one was probably the bills. She always tossed the bills to read later. Then she had come across his letter, confusion scrawled across her face as she examined the plain white envelope. He had written her name in his neatest handwriting; he hoped she would like it. She opened the letter hesitantly, her eyes growing wide with surprise as she read its contents. He was very proud of himself. Surely she was so surprised to get a letter from him that she made such a face! He knew that she was shy, and didn't expect her to write him back. He hadn't left an address for her to write to, anyway. But he knew that even without a return address, his treasure would read his letters without fail.

After all, he still loved her.

* * *

His darling, angelic sweetheart was beginning to bring friends over more often.

Of course, he had to watch over her to make sure they didn't harm her.

He would kill anyone that touched a hair on her head.

They mostly watched television or played video games, munching on snacks that she had brought up. Then her friends left her, abandoned her, leaving her with a mess to clean up all by herself.

He frowned.

How dare they expect an angel to do such hard work by herself?

It pained him enough to know that his beloved lived alone, that she paid her bills by herself, that she cooked for herself, that no one took care of her. He had offered to help her in one of her letters, but said that he respected her decision. He truly did. If his beloved wanted to be independent, he wouldn't interfere. Although that didn't stop him from leaving several boxes of chocolates in her mailbox with the letter every now and then.

After all, he still loved her.

* * *

Someone had _dared _to touch what was his.

While she had friends over, one of her unpleasant, male companions threw his arm over her shoulder and left it there for the entire night.

How _dare _he.

He had written to her the very next day, outlining his extreme disappointment in her. He expected more from her, for her to treasure their deep bond like it was the most precious jewel in the world. But he would forgive her because he could never stay angry at her for too long. He still wouldn't hesitate to murder the filth that touched her without his permission, though.

But he knew she hated violence. Therefore, he would pardon him for now.

Next time he wouldn't be so lenient.

After all, he still loved her.

* * *

He didn't have enough pictures of his beloved.

Although a mere photograph couldn't capture her glowing radiance, it would let him be with her whenever she wasn't in her room.

So, he pulled out his old camera and snapped the long-distance lenses on with ease. Sitting by the window, he waited for her to come into his room. Ah, there his angel was – she was wearing white today, which always made her seem more ethereal than usual.

_Click._

He snapped her photo, catching the sunlight reflecting off of her hair spectacularly.

_Click._

Later, once all the photos were printed and hung on his wall, he stuck a smaller version of his favorite picture – the one where she smiled brightly as she read her book, laughing at something within its pages – in his wallet. There.

Now they were always together.

After all, he still loved her.

* * *

He had gone to visit her today.

He bought her a bouquet of flowers and knocked at her door confidently. When she opened it, a look of shock on her face, he grinned widely and held them out. She was shy, so to avoid embarrassing her he said that they were delivered to his house by mistake.

Her eyes widened as she said that no one mentioned anything about delivering flowers.

His grin widened. She was so cute.

She had thanked him, and said that she would call the flower delivery service to see who they were from so she could thank them as well. After that, she had invited him in for some tea.

They had talked for a bit, commenting on things like the weather and how work was going. She even giggled at a joke he made, albeit a bit timidly.

Ah, this was what love was like.

True love, not that silly false love others thought they had. Their love was deep, their love was pure, their love was eternal. He knew that she would always love him and that she would never betray him. And he knew, better than anyone else, that he would always love her back, and that he would never, ever, never in a thousand years, betray her.

After all, he still loved her.

* * *

She stopped leaving her house.

Instead, she had her 'friends' come and bring things for her. She looked haggard, worn down, like something was troubling her.

He wrote about it to her, expressing his concern and telling her that if she needed something, she just had to ask. He outlined several ways to help her keep up her health, and generally made a big fuss over her safety.

She didn't even read his letter.

As soon as she got the mail, she dug through it until she pulled out his letter.

And then she ripped it in half, chucking it into the recycling bin without so much as a glance.

He was upset.

Here he was, concerned for her, worrying about her, wishing he could _help_ her, and she rips his concern and throws it into the recycling?!

She must just be tired and mistook it for something else; yes, that's it. Why else would she destroy the evidence of his love?

So he wrote another letter the next day, painstakingly rewriting the words he wrote before, and gently telling her that it was a simple mistake to rip up his letter, that he loved her still.

He would always love her.

And then she ripped it again, this time with a disgusted look on her face.

Perhaps her tiredness was getting to her again? Or maybe she was coming down with something? Her beautiful, pale skin was an unhealthy tone. It had to be a sign of sickness, right? He wasn't too sure now, but he knew that she would never do something like that to him.

So he wrote again. This time his tone was slightly irritated, slightly disappointed, but he told her, as always, that he still loved her.

He promised.

Once she got it, it was torn and thrown in the recycling.

And then she closed her curtains.

She _never_ closed her curtains.

Now he was beyond upset – he was furious.

Storming into his room, he glared at the wall full of her photos, tearing down the nearest one in his rage. His eyes burning holes into her image, he tore it in half and let the pieces carelessly flutter to the ground. He did everything for her! He gave her his heart, his soul, his eternal loyalty! And what does she do? She crushes his heart, destroys his soul, and mocks his loyalty!

He thought that they had the kind of love where no words needed to be spoken. Perhaps he was wrong?

No, no, he wasn't wrong! She loved him just as much as he loved her!

After all, he still loved her.

* * *

He visited her one night while she was asleep. The moonlight gently caressed her skin, causing it to glow. Although he wanted nothing more but to bask in her beauty until she awoke, he knew he had a mission to complete.

Gently, oh-so-carefully, he placed a large box on her bedside.

There.

His mission was complete.

Now his darling angel would know that he was there, that he was still thinking of her and, most importantly, loving her despite her unnaturally cold behavior.

He hoped his gift warmed her up.

But if it didn't, that was quite alright. He was well aware that his surprise might not be enough to stop his beloved's strange mood swings. It didn't really matter.

After all, he still loved her.

She had screamed when she saw his gift.

Screams of delight, perhaps?

A look of horror crept over her face as she leafed through the many photos of her and letters, a few slipping past her delicate fingers and drifting to the floor.

He knew she would love it. The look of horror must've been because she realized how terrible she was being to him.

Quickly shoving the papers back in the box, his gentle lamb knocked the box off of the table where he had placed it.

A mere accident, of course. He knew that she was clumsy in the mornings without her cup of tea. It was when she stumbled over to her phone, completely ignoring the overturned box, that his smile began to fade.

Snatching up the phone, she quickly punched in some numbers, holding the device to her ear. He could barely make out the words, but what he did hear sent a spark of anger down his spine.

"…stalking me. Help me, Chung!"

Chung?

_Chung?!_

Who _was_ this insolent boy that _dared_ to be so close to _his_ woman?!

Now he knew what had happened to his darling. That brat - that evil, evil brat - had poisoned her mind with his treacherous words, slowly planting the seeds of doubt and despair in her sweet, sweet heart. He could practically see the demon child now, swaying his poor, innocent love with smooth words of devilish intent. Her pure heart barely stood a chance in the face of his treason.

He fumed. No. He would not let that poisonous brat anywhere near his precious seraph.

After all, he still loved her.

* * *

That night, he went to her room once more. This time she was awake. Her eyes widened in recognition, a spark of fear flashing across her amber orbs.

He could barely keep his anger in check. She was scared of _him_?! Her one true love?! That Chung's poison had seeped too far into her mind.

Too far.

His steps, harsh and determined, lead him to her. She took a step back for every step he took forward until her back hit a wall. Now her stunning eyes were filled with pure terror, her lips quivering.

His rage grew.

She was gone.

The woman he loved was completely swallowed by the darkness known as 'Chung'.

And as clichéd as it sounded, if he couldn't have her…

No one could.

His hands wrapped around her pale neck, locking her in a choke-hold. Eyes widening, she tried to scream, only to let out a strangled gargle.

He saw a tear roll down her pale cheek and felt a matching one of his own. Grasping her neck tighter, he stepped forwards once more, making sure to burn this last image of her face into his memory. He chuckled lowly and humorlessly, brushing away a stray silver strand as her eyes fluttered shut for the last time.

"I promise love, I still…"

After all, he still loved her.

* * *

[A/N:]

What you see is the result of my friend challenging me to write a story with ten or less words of dialogue and no names (for the important/main characters, at least)! I think I did pretty well, right? For those of you who were confused, Add was the mentally ill stalker that had fallen in love with Eve, our poor victim of the story. Except they've never talked face-to-face.

Yeah.

When I started writing this I remembered that there was some sort of inspiration, but I forgot what it was, so… yeah. Eh, whatever (I feel like I'm a bit too laid back when it comes to remembering things like this. Again - eh, whatever).

Moving on, I had this idea for an ABSOLUTELY AMAZING STORY. It was mind-blowing even to me! So I ran to my desk, grabbed a pen... And completely forgot the ENTIRE THING. Now I will forevermore carry a wad of paper and a pencil/pen on my person in an easily accessible place (Currently I'm sitting on the floor with a notebook and pen desperately trying to remember things). I suggest any author on this site/in general do so too, just so you can actually remember important things like this.

So! Please R&amp;R! And follow/favorite if you want! See you all next time!


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